


Yesterday So Distant, Tomorrow So Close

by Willow_Angel



Series: Cherik Playlist [5]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (he just doesn't realise it), Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles plays piano, Cherik Playlist, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, Erik is enchanted by Charles's piano playing, Lia - Freeform, M/M, My Soul Your Beats!, Songfic, i couldn't not write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 12:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11357178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_Angel/pseuds/Willow_Angel
Summary: It took him a minute to place the sound of an old piano; an old piano to go with the old house. A twinkling melody that he didn’t recognise was being played, and a wave of calm washed over him. He sucked in a deep breath when he realised that the calm was foreign and didn’t originate from him.Charles was playing the piano.





	Yesterday So Distant, Tomorrow So Close

**Author's Note:**

> Charles playing piano. I LOVE THIS.  
> IF SOMEONE KNOWS OF A DRAWING OF THIS OR WOULD LIKE TO DRAW THIS, PLEASE SEND IT TO ME.  
> I NEED MORE OF THIS.
> 
> Not too sure about the start, but it's all I could get, so here you go! :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy~ :)
> 
> (The title and opening and closing italics are the rough English translation of "My Soul, Your Beats!", the Angel Beats! anime opening theme, performed by Lia.)

_I felt like I heard it_  
Because I felt like I sensed it  
Just now, in my heart that has begun to tremble

 

At first, Erik was a little sceptical when Charles offered that the mutants come and live in his old childhood home. Even when Charles insisted that it would be big enough for all of them and there would be plenty of room for them all to develop their powers, there was still a little feeling nagging Erik. It was like they were invading Charles’s privacy, his past.

Erik knew precious little about the past of Charles Xavier. He knew about the Charles that existed now – the intelligent, kind, caring, optimistic Charles. If he was perfectly honest, there weren’t enough words to describe Charles, and the words that existed didn’t seem to fit right. It was like the languages of the world – German, English, and the other ones he knew – had now failed him when it came to Charles.

Whenever Erik asked Charles questions about himself, Charles would smile and answer them in what seemed like perfect honesty, but Erik didn’t fail to notice the times when Charles would expertly dodge a question he obviously didn’t want to answer. Erik was a bit confused at first, because how could someone as kind as Charles have a bad childhood? But as Charles kept dodging questions, Erik began to wonder.

In fact, Erik knew so little about Charles that he didn’t realise that Charles grew up in a _mansion_. It was enormous, and the grounds even more so. But one glance at Charles’s face, and paying attention to the tone of his voice, and it was obvious to Erik that some unpleasant memories lingered in the halls of the house. It was like Charles was talking to a ghost.

As Charles led them through the house, Erik didn’t miss the way that his hand glided over some old surfaces, leaving trails through the thick layers of grey dust. Charles didn’t seem very happy to be back in his old home, and even Raven hesitated going into some rooms.

That night, Charles barricaded himself into the master bedroom after saying a curt goodnight to everyone. Raven smiled apologetically to them, and retired to her own room soon after. Eventually, they all filtered out to their allocated rooms, and Moira went back to the CIA.

Erik tried to get comfortable in the unfamiliar house, but after a while he gave up. He knew that it would take a long time, if he would ever feel comfortable at all.

But just as he was drifting off to sleep that night at an unholy hour of the morning, an echoing sound drifted through the walls. It took him a minute to place the sound of an old piano; an old piano to go with the old house. A twinkling melody that he didn’t recognise was being played, and a wave of calm washed over him. He sucked in a deep breath when he realised that the calm was foreign and didn’t originate from him.

Charles was playing the piano.

He was out of his bed and at the door of his room before he realised it. His hand hesitated on the door handle. Should he? Should he go and talk to Charles, or at least get closer to the admittedly beautiful music? His hand dropped, and he rested his forehead against the door. He closed his eyes, and listened.

 

The next morning he hesitated outside the kitchen when he heard Charles and Raven talking.

“…you playing last night,” Raven was saying.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Charles replied quietly.

“No, of course not! It was… it was beautiful.”

There was silence for a few seconds. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played. I wanted to start with something simple.”

Raven giggled. “It was wonderful, Charles,” she said.

Erik could almost see Charles’s shy grin. “Perhaps I’ll work back up to playing your favourite song,” he suggested.

“Would you?” Raven sounded excited.

“Of course,” Charles replied. “It’s your song after all, I remember loving to play it for you.”

“Thank you,” Raven said.

Erik was still for a moment – he hadn’t been wrong, it really had been Charles playing. He remembered listening to it, remembered it almost pushing him back into bed and into a dreamless sleep. Had that been the music, though, or had it been Charles himself? He couldn’t tell.

He didn’t bring it up to Charles that day, but not once was it not on his mind.

 

That night and many nights following, he found himself staying up and waiting for the sound of the piano echoing through the halls.

The next day and many days following, he found himself looking forward to the late-night drinks and games of chess with Charles. Over the course of knowing Charles, he’d learned a lot of his little quirks – now that he knew how well Charles played piano, the way that Charles always seemed to be tapping his fingers on his knee or a table or the arm of a chair made a lot more sense than just not being able to keep still.

Even now, as they talked about how the other mutants’ training was coming along, his fingers were tapping against the rim of his glass. A glance at his other hand showed the same thing, although they were going at different, seemingly random speeds. But Erik knew better.

He was speaking before he could stop himself, “You play even when there’s no piano in front of you.”

Charles’s fingers ceased their movements for a moment, but it seemed that he couldn’t stop them for long. “You noticed,” he commented with a small smile.

“It’s hard not to,” Erik replied. Charles smiled shyly and looked down, and then looked back up at Erik through his lashes. _He’s stunning._ The thought hit Erik like a brick, and he blinked. “What song is it?” he asked, trying to avoid showing too much emotion.

Charles’s small grin became a crooked smile, and he named a tune that Erik had never heard of. “It’s an old Russian lullaby,” he said. “Knowing the English translation of the lyrics, I can’t understand why _anybody_ in their right mind would sing it to their child, but it sounds lovely on piano.”

“I’m sure it does.” _When you play it, especially,_ he wanted to say, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. He trusted Charles enough – and he wondered when he’d truly begun to trust Charles – to know that he didn’t hear it.

“Perhaps I’ll play it for you sometime.” There was a slightly different look on Charles’s face now, one that Erik didn’t dare interpret for fear of getting it wrong.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help smiling a little. “I’d like that.”

The smile that Charles gave him was brighter than the sun.

 

Erik didn’t have to wait long for the music to begin that night. But tonight, for the first time, he left his room in search of his friend. He followed the sound of the piano and eventually found himself standing in the doorway of a room housing a huge grand piano. And sitting at the piano, illuminated by the soft glow of a small yellow lamp and hands gliding effortlessly across ivory keys, was Charles.

Erik’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t move. Charles looked absolutely beautiful, impossibly beautiful, just like the music he was playing. He, and it, was so full of emotion. Only if you looked deep beneath the surface did you finally see the intensity of those emotions behind the façade of calm.

Erik knew that Charles knew he was there, but Charles didn’t falter in his playing and Erik didn’t interrupt him. They were both completely wrapped up in the music, one man in giving and the other in receiving.

Eventually the music drifted to a close and Charles lifted his hands off the keys, both men keeping their silence as the notes drifted off into the air. When Charles turned to look at Erik, blue eyes shining with an emotion that Erik recognised but hadn’t had directed at him since he was a child, the breath rushed out of his lungs. He felt his heart thumping in his chest, and prayed that Charles couldn’t hear it in the silence of the room. He couldn’t breathe.

Charles smiled, and motioned for him to come over. Erik’s feet were moving before he told them to, and he found himself hovering at the piano. He ran his hands over the cool surface, admiring the instrument.

“You don’t play, do you?” Charles asked quietly.

Erik shook his head. “Never had a chance,” he answered honestly. He spoke quietly in fear of breaking the silence too much. “I’d rather listen than play, anyway.”

Charles smiled. “My mother was the same,” he said. “She and Raven always asked me to play for them when they were having a bad day. Which was more often than not for my mother, in her last years, but I always loved playing for her. It made her happy when nothing else did.”

Erik didn’t know what to do. Charles had just given Erik a piece of himself, a piece of his past, and Erik wasn’t sure what to do or say. So, he moved closer to Charles, who smiled and shuffled over so Erik could sit on the piano stool next to him. “I can see why,” he said. “You play beautifully.”

Charles smiled, and looked down. He ran his hands over the keys. “Thank you,” he said.

Erik was painfully aware of how their legs were pressed together, and how they were practically hip-to-hip, but Charles didn’t seem to mind. Actually, was he _leaning in_ to Erik, just a little?

Charles was still looking at the piano, so Erik took a chance. Slowly and carefully, giving Charles time to move away, he pressed a chaste kiss to Charles’s cheek. He felt Charles smile, and then the piano-playing wonder was turning around and kissing him properly.

Erik was surprised, but the kiss was a beautiful thing that matched the beauty of the person he was sharing it with. It was enchanting, exhilarating, magical, and it felt _right_. It felt like coming home.

That was when he realised. He’d fallen in love with Charles’s music, and then in love with Charles himself.

 

Some days later, after Charles had let Erik ravish him and make love to him, they were lying peacefully together in bed. Charles was curled up into Erik’s side, a hand splayed across Erik’s chest. Just when Erik thought that Charles had finally drifted off to sleep, his fingers began gently tapping across Erik’s skin. Sometimes he stopped and then started again, and sometimes he would do for a while without stopping.

“What are you playing?” Erik asked him, running a hand through the beautiful man’s hair.

Charles hummed, and kissed Erik’s chest. “I’m writing,” he answered. “It doesn’t have a name yet.”

“You write music?” As far as Erik knew, the songs that Charles had played had never been his own.

“This is the first one,” Charles explained, looking up at Erik. His eyes were sparkling, glowing in the dark. “It’s for you,” he admitted.

Erik found himself unable to breathe again. All he could say was, “I love you.”

Charles smiled, leaning up and kissing his mouth softly. “I love you too,” he responded. Erik kissed him again.

_I felt it come again:_  
The new sun, crossing over a thousand mornings  
I felt like it was waiting for me  
Because I felt like it was calling to me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated ^~^


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